


Filling the Gaps

by Anacrea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, No Onscreen Death, Post-Barricade, Shamelessly Happy Fic, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Successful Barricade AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anacrea/pseuds/Anacrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Successful barricade au, after the battle, Les Amis help clean up/rebuild the cafe and return it to its former condition.</p><p>Exactly what it says on the tin. The surviving members of Les Amis rebuild Corinth and their relationships with one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filling the Gaps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/gifts).



In the end, it was again Three Glorious Days of revolution. The first, June 5th, the day of the funeral and the building of the first barricades. The second, June 6th, led to the rising of the populace at large, on a wider scale even than July two years prior, and the most intense fighting; by sundown that day, thousands of barricades covered Paris. June 7th changed everything. The revolutionaries had captured the city. Some, like Combeferre, kept order among those who sought to use the rising of the people for their own ends; they protected the innocent citizens and discouraged looting among the Louvre and other important buildings. Others, including Enjolras and Feuilly, converged on the Royal Palace.

Louis Philippe abdicated and fled, and just as in 1830 a provisional government was established right away -- except that this time, lead by staunch republicans, there was no reason to say the revolution had been stolen from them when the fighting finally ceased and the bells of Saint-Merry stopped their continuous ringing.

France was officially a republic again, and though elections weren't scheduled until late summer, the provisional government had established universal (male) suffrage very quickly and appeared by all accounts to be doing a fine job. After many months, and even, in some respects, years, of torrid activity, Enjolras at last had a chance to stop and take a breath. If it should come into question that it was not entirely a happy rest, enough could be said to explain in mentioning the names of Bahorel and Jean Prouvaire, whose deaths still weighed on all of them.

 Still, a somber spot in their consciousness was no reason for halting the celebration. It was under that mindset that, a week after their triumph, when Enjolras received word from Combeferre that he should like to invite him as well as Courfeyrac and Feuilly to take the evening meal with him at the hospital Necker, Enjolras accepted immediately. He would be overjoyed to see his friends once more; spending several days fighting together deepened bonds, and if they had spent time together in a quiet celebration of their victory -- and again for a service for their two fallen friends -- the time they'd spent apart from each other had seemed to stretch on even longer.

Combeferre procured his own table in the hospital dining room, and the invitation of a free meal (a courtesy, along with his lodgings, he was extended by way of his position as _interne_ ) was not one to be refused -- even if it still seemed very strange that they might discuss matters in public now instead of in secret. To that end, it was easier to talk of matters of friendship than of politics, an inclination clearly shared by others when Courfeyrac brought his own bottle of wine and started them off with a toast, which Enjolras participated in even if only with his water -- _"To our success, and to the Republic!"_

They were allowed to linger in discussing the excitement of their triumph, a discussion which Enjolras was not at all displeased to share in, but not for so long as he'd thought they would be before Combeferre drew first his, then all of their attention with a pointed gaze.

"I haven't asked you to meet with me for the purpose of celebration. Far be it for me to discourage our revelry, in fact I would like the larger group of us to find time together, sometime soon, for no purpose other than to share each other's company. Still, the matter I've brought you here to discuss must take priority," began Combeferre, voice suddenly sober and serious.

Enjolras reached over to rest a hand on his forearm and nodded indulgently. "You will find no argument from me, nor from any of us; you know very well we'll listen carefully to whatever you have to say."

"Has there been some trouble?" Feuilly asked when Combeferre drew himself up again.

"Nothing of the kind. It's only... as the provisional government begins the work of the new Republic, it occurs to me that our own work is yet unfinished." Drawing a curious eye from Enjolras and from the others, he smiled gently and continued on. "I spoke at the barricade about considering those who our actions affect -- mothers, sisters, wives and children -- but that isn't all. Courfeyrac, have you been to Corinth since the revolution?"

 _'Since the revolution'_ was still an exciting phrase, one that provoked a smile from all involved, but as Enjolras looked to Courfeyrac, who was shaking his head, it seemed that something was dawning on him even before Combeferre continued. "No, in fact, I haven't. As I recall, Madame Hucheloup was less-than-pleased with the position of our barricade," said Courfeyrac, frowning seriously.

"Precisely that. Well, if you had been there -- and I am sure you can surmise even without -- you would be aware that the restaurant is not by any measure in working order. There has been some effort to clear away the barricades and the bodies of the dead." Here he paused, as a shadow fell over the group of them. "But Corinth itself? Almost in ruins. The furniture? Destroyed, or missing. The widow Hucheloup has lost her source of income and damaged her home on our account. Matelote and Gibelotte, who kindly gave us their assistance, are now out of work as Corinth is inoperable, and may have lost the roof over their heads as well. It would be an injustice to forget them."

There was a moment of sober silence before Feuilly nodded and added his voice. "I agree with Combeferre. If we were to do nothing, those three will have suffered more greatly on our account than on that of their former king's. The plight of the working class, that's what we fought for -- to ignore the direct results of that fighting would be hypocrisy, all the more so as they are women and so don't have the same recourse that we do."

Courfeyrac appeared upset, which made sense to Enjolras. After all, it had been mostly his unfailing support, out of pity for the widow of Hucheloup the restaurateur, that had kept Corinth in business for the past few years. "We demolished Corinth; therefore it falls to us to repair it. There is nothing else to be done for the matter, my friends," he said firmly, looking up and meeting Enjolras's eyes with the same fiery passion that had first drawn the two of them together.

"Then we are all of us in agreement," said Enjolras, pressing Combeferre's hand from where his own still lingered nearby. "It's very good of you to remind us of this necessity, to bring it to our attention." In truth, it probably wouldn't have occurred to him; Corinth was not his usual meeting-place, even if it had some importance to the others for personal reasons or for terms of strategy, and he hadn't had much thought for the state of the restaurant in the aftermath of revolution. Combeferre frequently paid more attention to such things, but he knew enough now to feel some shame at his overlooking it entirely. "I will send word to the others, and we will start as quickly as possible. This is, after all, a time-sensitive matter."

Combeferre was very much satisfied, though the brief look he shared with Enjolras told him that they'd be discussing the matter in more detail later. "Excellent. In the mean time, I don't see why we shouldn't pass the current evening in joy and friendship. It feels like it has been much too long since we've last met with each other like this," he said, and quickly the four of them fell back into easy conversation with each other. Among the camaraderie of the evening meal, shared hopes and ideas for the new Republic -- ideas that now seemed much more than distant dreams -- Enjolras felt his spirits restored.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Enjolras was not entirely surprised that Combeferre came to call on him over breakfast. He invited him in without hesitation, of course, though he had not prepared much more than coffee with milk, bread, cheese, and a bit of fruit. "I had suspected our business was not entirely concluded," he said, once his friend was settled in.

"You are perceptive, then," he answered with a smile. "I was thinking that the both of us should take a visit to the restaurant today, to make an assessment of what exactly we will need, and to inform the owner of the establishment of what our intentions are. After all, I am not so sure she would welcome the lot of us back in otherwise."

Combeferre was quite right, of course. Though it had not been Enjolras's idea to construct the barricade where they had, neither had he considered how it might affect Mme. Hucheloup, or paid much mind to her upset about the situation. It was an intrusion, in fact, whether or not they'd meant any harm by it. He nodded soberly. "I will take your advice as far as this situation goes, my friend. I'm afraid I don't have any idea what the protocol for such a thing might be."

It turned out that the protocol, as Combeferre recommended it, included stopping by a florist along the way to pick out a bouquet of flowers, and so as soon as they finished breakfast, the both of them set off, arms linked. "Truly I'm glad that this is something which occurred to you, Combeferre," Enjolras was saying. "As you said, it would be an injustice to overlook it. But more than that, I'll be glad to have all of us together again for a common purpose more than celebration or mourning. Of course we've all been occupied, I'm sure, but it seems to me that after everything, it would be..." He paused, catching Combeferre's eye and receiving a reassuring nudge along his side. "It would be helpful to spend time with our friends."

Combeferre was quiet and thoughtful; it was usual in their conversation to spend some time reflecting on each other's words, and so they remained silent as he chose a collection of purple and white flowers, an arrangement that Enjolras thought must be pleasing enough. Combeferre was explaining the meaning behind each of them, something he himself had learnt from Jean Prouvaire. Enjolras listened attentively even if he had no interest and did not think he would remember, both because Combeferre was clearly taking careful concern, and because it brought to mind an image of his fallen friend, explaining with enthusiastic mirth the mysteries and intricacies of the language of flowers.

It was as they approached Corinth, Combeferre holding the flowers in both hands, that he spoke up in response at last. "I agree with you, by the way. I think all of us could use the time together. The completion of our 'victory' gives an impression which is not altogether true, that our endeavors have finished and we no longer _need_ each other. Rather, I would say we need each other more than ever now. I hope this might bring us into common accord again; we can work out what the goals of our Society should be in the wake of this new Republic, and further, in the meantime, we need not be alone or apart from one another."

Combeferre had not been joking about the state of affairs the building was in, Enjolras realised as they rounded the Rue de la Chanvrerie. The barricade had been cleared away, after all, but the paving-stones were still torn up in many places; the grates on the windows of the restaurant were missing, the destruction from cannon and from gunshot was evident. If the building had not been in excellent shape on June 4th, it was now truly in disrepair. The door was shut closed. Enjolras winced. Combeferre knocked on the door, an effort which bore no fruit, but as they shared a glance with one another, at something of a loss, Enjolras looked skywards and caught sight of one of the dormer windows from the attic and what might have been a figure standing behind it. Ordinarily averse to shouting in the street, he drew himself up and cupped his mouth to call out. "Madame! If you would kindly allow us to speak with you--" he began, abruptly cutting himself off as the window slammed shut.

It did not seem there was much else to be done. Enjolras shared another glance with Combeferre, eyebrows drawn tightly together, and shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure flowers are an adequate apology, if she will not receive us in the first place," he said, and he must have looked comically discouraged because Combeferre clapped him on the shoulder and smiled with amusement.

"We'll return later if not received now, Enjolras. I'm very sure it isn't the flowers that are the problem." Combeferre drew his attention to the wine shop, to the sound of movement inside. "See? You spoke too soon," he said happily, and they both took a step back from the door.

It was Gibelotte who opened the door, after all, and from the sleepy expression on her face, Enjolras might have said that they must have awoken her directly from bed, except that this was in all honesty the usual state of affairs for her. "Good morning, Messieurs. I'm afraid we aren't open today," she said, as though it weren't completely obvious, and Enjolras smiled to himself as Combeferre stepped forward to present the flowers.

"Good morning, Gibelotte. Is Madame Hucheloup in, by any chance? I was hoping you might deliver these to her, along with our apologies, and ask if we could speak to her about a matter of some importance," he said, perfectly polite, and she reached out to take the flowers, looked the both of them over carefully, and then nodded wearily with a polite smile.

"I'll fetch Madame, but I'm not sure she'll be agreeable to your request. If you'd like to wait here?" She turned, then, shut the door behind her, and Enjolras frowned curiously up at Combeferre. He hadn't considered prior to their visit that she might refuse their assistance, and while he was glad at least that someone had answered the door, it still seemed that that might be a possibility.

As always, Combeferre seemed to know his thoughts, and briefly touched him on the shoulder in a gesture he took comfort in. "If she won't entertain the idea, if she turns us away after we offer to help her, I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about it, Enjolras. It would be wrong not to do what we can, but similarly we can't force our assistance on the woman if she doesn't want anything to do with it. The best we can do is try our hardest to convince her we mean well."

They didn't have to wait very long for that. It could only have been a minute or two since Gibelotte left that Madame Hucheloup came to take her place in the doorway, a much less mild, if smaller, figure. Enjolras instinctively straightened himself up, opened his mouth to speak politely, but her words came first. "I suppose this counts for a fit apology in your minds? Good Heavens! My husband's restaurant, torn apart in that awful revolution of yours. Now you've got yours, and what do I have? A bundle of flowers, I suppose. That's an atrocity, is what that is! Monsieur Combeferre, where is that friend of yours, that Courfeyrac? 'Avenging' me! Is he not here to deliver his 'apology' with you?"

Enjolras flinched on Courfeyrac's behalf, recalling how upset he'd been during their discussion before, and cleared his throat. Combeferre lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dear Madame, if you would care to listen--"

"Don't 'Dear Madame' me!" Her face was a fierce scowl, capable even of frightening Combeferre into temporary silence, apparently, because he dutifully closed his lips.

"My good citizen," tried Enjolras, casting his gaze downwards and nodding his head respectfully. "The apology we've given you is neither fit nor complete, I assure you." He glanced upwards briefly, meeting her gaze, and at the very least she appeared to be entertaining his words, so he forged on. "That's precisely the matter we've come here to address. Your restaurant is a fine establishment my friends have been patrons of for years now. To take advantage of your hospitality and to leave things in this state would be an atrocity indeed, and I can see from here the damage is considerably more than words alone can fix." Their eyes were locked, then, and she'd seemed to relax against the doorway as Enjolras grew more confident. "If you'd consider allowing us a chance to make things right, my friends and I, Courfeyrac included, would like to repair the Corinth. It was our choice to take it over, we did not ask for your input, and that deserves an apology itself. But it was our choice, and our actions, which lead to the damage of your property, considerable as it is. I'd like to make that right. To clean up after our intrusion, to fix what has been broken, to restore it to working condition." There was a long pause of silence between the both of them where Madame Hucheloup simply stared at him, silent, as though making an assessment. Enjolras frowned. "If not that, then at the very least allow me to offer you some compensation," he started, breaking her gaze and reaching for his coin purse.

There was a hand at his arm, though, and Enjolras looked up with surprise to see Hucheloup with a small smile on her face, seeming much more at peace. "Alright, alright," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I knew you and yours were a good sort, Enjolras. I don't want your money, but I'll give you permission to restore the building if you can."

"Thank you," Combeferre said very sincerely, and Enjolras found himself smiling as well. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take inventory of the building, to see what we'll need in the manner of supplies and how much work there is to do exactly."

There was a great deal, even judging only by what was visible from the outside, but it wasn't until they were both invited inside and Combeferre began to take his careful notes on what was missing, what was broken, what needed restored, that the full extent of the task began to stare them into face. It would be a substantial project. "Almost as difficult," Combeferre joked, "as demolishing it had been in the first place."

By the end of the day, the two of them had a completed list and some idea of what the task ahead would entail. Enjolras sent word to Joly (and thus by extension Bossuet), Courfeyrac, and Feuilly, informing them of what was to be done and when they would meet, if at all possible (it was, of course, necessary to get started right away). Combeferre and Enjolras parted just after the evening meal once again, and he returned home for some much-needed rest.

 

* * *

 

The first day was designated for cleaning. By the time Enjolras arrived at Corinth, he was pleased to see that he was by no means the first; Bossuet, Joly, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire were joking loudly with each other, and Enjolras hesitated for a moment in confusion, as he did not remember informing Grantaire in the first place. Still he was here.

At the barricade, Grantaire had gotten himself drunk even before they'd arrived. Rather than assist them properly, he'd made a distraction of himself, had harassed Matelote (who was, in fact, a far more useful pair of hands than Grantaire had been), and had fallen into a drunken stupor, where he'd certainly remained for the rest of the day and the morning after as well. Enjolras had not known what had become of him after the people of Paris rose; he'd suspected that he had gone away, but it had been the furthest thing from his mind at the moment, and afterwards. There were numerous reasons to turn Grantaire aside. Having stopped, their gazes locked for one moment and Grantaire almost immediately turned away.  Enjolras shook his head, but elected not to send him off until he began disrupting their work; until then, more hands could only be of use.

Enjolras approached the group seriously, informing them more specifically of what their findings had been the day before, and Feuilly and Combeferre both arrived shortly in the company of one another. It was another quarter of an hour, perhaps, that they lingered in conversation with each other as they waited for the others to arrive, before Enjolras realised precisely what it felt like their group was missing, the identity of those 'others'. Immediately afterwards he realised that Bahorel and Prouvaire would not be joining them after all. "Marius will not be here today?" asked Enjolras of Courfeyrac.

"It seems not, my friends. Marius is in love these days! He has no time for practical affairs," he said airily, but there was a smile firmly in place on his lips that seemed to indicate he was not so dismissive of the idea after all.

"Well, then, we should get started, should we not?"

There was a pause, a silent counting, and then the group of them seemed to come to the same realisation that Enjolras had only moments ago. The mood was noticeably dampened for a moment, but then Courfeyrac seemed to rally again and with him, the rest of them. He threw an arm around Bossuet and another around Feuilly and marched them towards the door. "Come, now! Corinth will become the newest restaurant in Paris by the time we are finished with her."

Madame Hucheloup was prepared to receive them this time, and in a better mood to do it as well; when Enjolras stepped inside, she was behind the counter with an array of cleaning supplies. Matelote and Gibelotte had brought down a collection of their own aprons, which they handed out to the men. Enjolras looked askance at first, but followed suit when he saw Feuilly accept with gratitude and without hesitation. Soon enough all of them were down to shirtsleeves, with an apron protecting their clothes underneath, and set to work. Carrying out all the rubble and the tables which remained was not an easy task when it included moving the rickety billiard table from the second floor down a spiral staircase, but it was a necessary one, if they wanted the area clear for cleaning and then repairs -- and in the end it was a task accomplished without disaster.

It turned out that they did have nine sets of hands, after all, as Matelote and Gibelotte were capable workers in their own rights. Once the task at hand had turned to sweeping and cleaning, in fact, Matelote seemed to take great pleasure in ordering around the men (in particular, Courfeyrac and Grantaire) as they often did to her in days past. The former entertained her with great theatrics, the latter with something of a sheepish expression but, to Enjolras's surprise, very few grumbles of complaint. Gibelotte, milder though she was, set about her tasks with no less enthusiasm than the rest of them, and smiled with quiet amusement at Matelote.

Enjolras worked closely with Combeferre, except for when Courfeyrac began to engage him in debate about the new government, and kept generally quiet. All in all, sharing these tasks with each other as they were was not altogether dissimilar from their more casual meetings: Courfeyrac and Combeferre talking politics with one another, Feuilly joining in on occasion but carrying on his own conversation with Gibelotte, Grantaire making a loud comparison between the ruins of the building and the ruins of the city of Corinth. The difference here was that Prouvaire was not here to capture the attention of the room with his unexpected verve, that Bahorel's laugh did not fill the gaps in the conversation. Joly and Bossuet stuck more closely to each other than usual, a sort of mutual comfort; Grantaire had an unfamiliar hesitance to his words; Courfeyrac more readily quieted himself when he began to talk with fire and passion, despite the fact that Combeferre would happily entertain him. It was not dissimilar, but it was not the same, and he could take joy in being with the group of them again, but not without that profound piece of something missing, something 'incomplete'.

Apparently the direction of his thoughts was not so easily hidden from his friends after all, because Enjolras felt a touch at his shoulder just as he finished cleaning off the words Courfeyrac had scrawled in chalk on the door to the restaurant. "You were right, Enjolras. This is helpful," Combeferre said, catching his eye. "You're looking at our friends and seeing the gaps, where things have changed, but you must see, too, how they are being filled in."

Combeferre was right, of course; there was a tentative happiness now, but it would not always be that way. "They are. Or, they will be," he said, leaning lightly into his touch and standing up straight with a nod. "Thank you. You always know when to say something." He turned around, spotting Courfeyrac, who'd just made his way up the staircase, frowning with what appeared to be sincere remorse at the door Enjolras had just finished with.

When met with an inquiring expression, however, Courfeyrac's expression melted away into a playful laugh. "You have caused me the gravest offense, my friend!" he cried with mock drama. "Have you no appreciation for my words of wisdom, my sober intellect? Cruelly censoring me as you have -- however shall I be satisfied?"

Never mind that similar 'censure' was a process that the other words adorning the walls of the restaurant had already undergone. Enjolras smiled in amusement, but he played along, placing a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "I beg your pardon, Courfeyrac! You will have to satisfy yourself by scrawling new ones at the earliest opportunity."

"You are only lucky I haven't brought any chalk with me," he laughed in response, brushing off Enjolras's hand with a grin and stepping forward to bring him into an embrace. "You are forgiven, this once. Revolution is a time for new beginnings, no? 'The newest restaurant in Paris', I said. No place for my old words. But fear not! You're right; we will make new ones together." Enjolras nodded, finding that he couldn't contain the smile on his face, returned the embrace for a moment, and stepped back to allow Courfeyrac passage. It was not about the door, of course; Courfeyrac spoke with sincerity that shouldn't have surprised him, and after all he did feel better for it.

One of the long tables which had been moved outside -- the very one, in fact, which had housed the body of the old man Courfeyrac had called Mabeuf -- was scrubbed clean and returned to the wine-shop just before the midday meal. All nine of them, the serving-girls included, sat around the table together and ate Madame Hucheloup's cooking; Courfeyrac had given her money earlier that day so that she might have enough to buy the ingredients in the first place, plus extra for the 'price' of the meal, as it were. So it came to be that Corinth, closed and broken down as it was, still served its customers. The wine, which Enjolras had not tried but had been informed was truly awful, was passed around still in bottle from person-to-person and each took turns proposing a toast. The food had been tasteless for the two years since M. Hucheloup had died, but if the food was bad and the wine terrible, the company (and thus the meal) was more than good enough to satisfy without complaint.

 

* * *

 

By Feuilly's request, it was a few days later when the group of them actually converged again in order to repair the building. Enjolras discovered why that was shortly after he arrived to find Feuilly with a collection of workers he was unfamiliar with -- some he recognised from the barricades, others he did not.

"Good morning!" called Feuilly, waving lightly, and Enjolras approached curiously. "May I introduce you to some friends of mine? Laurent, Moreau, Lacroix, and Richard. Friends, this is Enjolras, a close comrade of mine and someone I admire greatly."

"It's a pleasure to meet any friends of Feuilly," said Enjolras, stepping forward to greet each of them individually.

"We often met together at Corinth with a collection of other workers. They are happy to help with the restoration effort, taking into account in particular that, pardon the assumption, most of us are unfamiliar with what actually goes into repair of a building. Only for today, unfortunately -- my friends have their own work to be done."

"That's no trouble at all," Enjolras said, smiling warmly at Feuilly. "I'm extremely appreciative of your help, all of us are. We'd best get started as soon as possible, then; I don't want to waste any of your time."

Fortunately, most of them were early once again; only Combeferre (on account of medical rounds) and Grantaire arrived later than had been planned.  Feuilly had been thoughtful to ask for help, as it turned out most of them were fairly clueless after all and had not brought the kinds of tools that the tradesmen had. Certainly, some aspects of the repair were capable of being done without supervision, such as re-setting the paving stones and installing the grates back into the windows, and the two serving-girls, along with Bossuet, took care of those tasks.

Others might have proved impossible without assistance. In the first part, carrying the billiard table back up the stairs, a task which had been abandoned at the end of the day before, was much easier with a few extra pairs of stronger hands. Laurent was a joiner, and so the task of repairing the furniture came down to him, with Enjolras and Combeferre as his apt students. Most of the furniture in Corinth had been in bad shape even before the barricades, had stood on four legs as most would on three. Those were the easiest to fix, and once given a new finish, looked new to Enjolras's eyes. That included the billiard table, a fact which he was sure Courfeyrac would be very pleased by.

Less easy was the furniture which had become the barricade, most of which had to be made again. This was a time-consuming task, even with three people, and it became clear partly through the day that they certainly wouldn't finish with all the work that had to be done that day. Instead they focused on what had to be built on-site, what was most essential; the rest Enjolras pledged a sum of money to pay for, and Combeferre with him. As an _interne_ , who received free lodging and a decent stipend from the hospital for his work, he was very comfortable financially, and as this was his idea in the first place, he assured Enjolras that he should be able to cover most of it. Laurent gave them a recommendation, and Combeferre took down notes on what they ought to be looking for.

Courfeyrac himself, along with Joly, was instructed by Lacroix and Richard in repairing what they could of the structural damage done to both the interior and exterior of the building. This was less of a perfect job; artillery was very well-versed in destruction, after all. Still, they did what they could; by the time they were finished, there was not much concern about the safety of the building or its inhabitants. The walls and floors were made to be sturdy and to that end they served their purpose well. If there was less to be said about their appearance, so be it.

Moreau had the more dangerous task, to Enjolras's eye, of repairing the roofing and shingles of the building. He chose as his helpers Feuilly, which made sense as they knew each other well, and Grantaire, which was a questionable decision to be sure -- one that made Enjolras very nervous, particularly when he saw the cheer and humor with which he seemed to take being so high in the air. On a brief break with Combeferre, he saw Grantaire and Feuilly talking animatedly over some subject he could not overhear.

"What on earth do you think those two might have in common?" he asked Combeferre with a frown, one which grew more prominent when his friend simply laughed at him.

"Nothing you need to worry about, probably," he said, nudging Enjolras lightly and letting out a sigh. "I understand your wariness about it -- about him, let's be honest. If you had sent him away in the first place, I would not have been surprised. But you haven't, and since then, what? He is more quiet than usual. He has not caused much of a disruption. It seems to me he may well feel sorry for the same state of affairs that you do. Or, given that he was the one who 'discovered' Corinth in the first place, perhaps he feels some obligation there." Enjolras nodded weakly, conceding the point, but he did not seem much appeased. "In any case he has been with us for five years, now? Our group has already been damaged by some blow. Is his transgression large enough that you should want to send him away now? He did not defend the barricade with us, no. He did not attack it either."

"No, I suppose not." Again Enjolras glanced up, troubled.

"Then put it out of your mind. We are repairing, rebuilding our relationships with one another as much as we are Corinth. If you permit Grantaire to be a part of that, then do so -- without this hesitation."

It was not precisely the issue that had troubled Enjolras, but Combeferre was right nevertheless, and he managed to do just that -- put it out of his mind -- until, less than halfway through the day, he discovered Grantaire on the ground floor, sitting (thankfully not on any of the 'new' furniture) in the corner with a bottle of wine.

"Why are you not with Moreau, and Feuilly? What happened to that?" asked Enjolras, more sharply than he'd intended but more restrained than he'd feared.

"I have no wings with which to fly in the air, Enjolras, it seems. My simple hands are not made for such a _lofty_ task; like so many other things it remains beyond me," was the response he got, flippant as usual, but the (rare) pointed way that Grantaire's eyes met his own unsettled Enjolras somewhat. "There are certain things they are useful for, in any case. This is one of them. _Vive la République_ ," he said in toast, as he lifted the bottle of wine and took a large drink.

Enjolras did not send him away for that; neither did he ask for him to make use of his hands somewhere else, as everyone else was. The only response he gave him was confiscating the bottle of wine, though to his credit Grantaire did not protest to him directly, even if he did to others. Enjolras did not find him with it again later, either; instead it was shared primarily among Bossuet and the women, who had finished their own tasks in the first half of the day and contented themselves in assisting the others where possible.

The midday meal, considerably later than midday after all, was not taken at Corinth this time; instead a group consisting of Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Grantaire chose a 'suitable' place for the group of them to dine, thirteen this time instead of nine. Moreau was an excellent conversationalist, it seemed, and if the lot of them were asked more than once to keep their voices lowered, it was a fair price, Enjolras thought, for the sight of his friends all with unrestrained joy on their faces. They paid what they could, which was in some cases not at all, but on the whole, more than what was owed, and returned to Corinth to continue work. The day was finished only when dusk began to approach and the workers, Feuilly included, had to return home. The rest followed suit shortly after, the brunt of the work behind them.

 

* * *

 

Feuilly had once again made a request, that the others leave Corinth to him, and to Grantaire, over the next week and a half or so. Enjolras had been surprised, naturally; it had seemed to him that as soon as they introduced the new furniture (as the place was still very sparsely filled) the restaurant could be re-opened. It surprised him also that Feuilly should chose _Grantaire_ to work with him and not someone else, but upon questioning the choice, he'd been told that Feuilly was, in fact, very certain he meant what he said.

Enjolras had too much respect for the man to doubt after that, whatever his own thoughts on the matter were. It gave them time to follow up on the recommendations Laurent had given to them. He met with Combeferre to choose a day and to decide on a reasonable budget, and then again a few days later with Madame Hucheloup in tow. After all, whatever free reign they'd been given thus far, she wanted at least a part in choosing what furniture might ornament the building. Enjolras felt that was fair; in any case, he had very little idea what kind of things he ought to be looking for, other than the very basic list he and Combeferre had drawn up, and once they actually got started 'shopping', it became very clear that he greatly preferred the planning stage of this particular endeavor; the execution was somewhat frustrating.

Combeferre seemed to have no such trouble; he guided Madame through the market and gave his opinion on certain pieces as though he'd done it often before. Enjolras, on the other hand, could not understand much of the long deliberation between two equally-functional pieces, and tended to respond with what was deemed an 'unhelpful', "They both look fine to me." The both of them quickly stopped asking him, and Combeferre directed him instead to see the cooper. All of the barrels which had previously stored goods in the Corinth cellar needed to be replaced, after all. This was a task he seemed to be more adept at.

By the time he was finished, and found the both of them again, Combeferre assured him that the rest of it was taken care of and that he could return home if he liked. He was privately, but deeply, relieved, though from the amused look on his friend's face, he imagined he had not been entirely as subtle as he'd hoped for.

There passed a few more days before Feuilly declared that they were finished, and ready for the new furniture to be moved in. The full group of them met again that same day, having hired carriages to move the items but needing a large enough group to put them all in place. Most of them, Enjolras included, were also eager to see Feuilly's 'secret' project.

The content of it, if not the full extent, became very obvious very quickly: they'd been painting. Feuilly, who was wearing one of his own aprons, had a large smear across the front of it, and Grantaire, who was wearing Matelote's apron, had just about covered his entirely in shades of blue, brown, and pink. The front of the building was mostly unchanged (though, taking it in again with the full extent of the repairs, it was much easier to look at than the half-ruined building of a few short weeks ago), except that the post in the front had been repainted a lighter blue with a dark, reddish bunch of grapes and the name, in delicate script above it: "The Grape of Corinth".  The letters on the front of the building, which had years ago read "CARPES HO GRAS" and had since been mostly washed away, was written anew -- this time deliberately "CARPE HORAS".

The latter of that was Grantaire's doing, Enjolras could tell without anyone informing him, but Joly and Bossuet both seemed inordinately pleased and began laughing with him about it. They couldn't have taken so long only for this, even so.

Enjolras entered the wine-shop while the others were still outside, finding it mostly unchanged; the furniture that was still there had been moved around, but that was about all. Determined and more than a little curious, he climbed the spiral stairs to the second floor, opened the door to the restaurant, and stepped inside. There was the difference, and what a remarkable one it was.

The walls, which had previously been white-washed and entirely bare, aside from the charcoal inscription which had so long adorned one of them, had been painted over entirely with a floral pattern that spanned all four walls. If he hadn't known better, he might have taken it for wallpaper at first. It must have been an incredible amount of work, Enjolras could see that, and as he approached to look more closely at one of the walls, he the significant detailing on some of the flowers became obvious.

"Do you like it?" asked a voice behind him, and Enjolras turned to see Feuilly, who he hadn't realised was following him, in the doorway. "I know you aren't very interested in flowers, but Madame Hucheloup is, actually. See, there? I used some of the ones she said you gave to her."

Enjolras hadn't noticed, but some of them did look familiar on second glance. "You did all of this, Feuilly?" he asked. "It's really beautiful. Whether or not I enjoy flowers, it takes no kind of expertise to say that this is incredible."

Feuilly grinned at him but shook his head, and as he advanced, Grantaire followed behind him. "It's my design -- floral patterns are always popular on fans, so it's nothing new as far as that goes. But I'm better with a smaller scale, more detail; I did the details on the one you were just looking at. I've certainly never done anything so large. I don't even have the time, really. Grantaire helped with that, a lot. Most of this is his paint, his brush. We worked together. It was great fun, actually," he said, and Enjolras followed the warm smile on his face to where it was directed: to Grantaire, who looked significantly more uncertain.

"Fun for you, maybe," snorted Grantaire, suppressing a smile of his own. "I'm the one who's been wasting my days in this miserable restaurant, with the worst wine I've ever had the pleasure of tasting."

There were myriad questions that Enjolras found himself wanting to ask, foremost among them ' _Why?_ ' He knew Grantaire had once studied under Gros, but also heard secondhand the story about him quitting that, so clearly it was not out of some great passion for the art. Their eyes met for a moment, and the trace of Grantaire's smile vanished. Enjolras remembered what Combeferre had told him before, took a deep breath, and let go of his questions.

"You've done very well, Grantaire," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder and nodding once at him. "Corinth belongs to you as much as to any of us." Enjolras had more to say, opened his mouth to figure out the words; something about the different kinds of use in the new Republic, or perhaps that what happened on the barricades, for all of them, might be best forgotten. The words didn't come, though, and he knew he'd taken too long to say them when Grantaire began to look at him with open amusement. He straightened up, then, pulled away, and cleared his throat, just before the others began to filter into the room with looks of admiration and wonder on their faces.

 

* * *

 

What happened on the barricades was not, in fact, forgotten. Enjolras, and several of the other Friends of the ABC, were awarded medals for their actions in the revolution, something which he accepted gracefully but not without some measure of discomfort. It reminded him too much of what had happened in 1830.

Corinth was re-opened the very day after they'd brought the furniture to it, a fortunate occurrence both for Madame Hucheloup and for the Society of the Friends of the ABC themselves. The back room of the Cafe Musain was perfectly adequate, still, and it served the important purpose of allowing the group of them to get together in a more private, intimate setting, just between the seven of them. After the awarding of the medals, however, they had gained some measure of fame and renown; accordingly, their more public meetings in Corinth were more often than not quite full. The restaurant became busy once again, though neither the wine nor the food improved much at all, and the service deteriorated, on account of the two serving girls, Matelote especially, contributing to the discussion at hand. Nobody minded; after all the both of them had served in the revolution as well.

The first elections had not yet arrived by mid-July, but that didn't mean the people couldn't participate in the decisions being made. Enjolras was working on writing a pamphlet on that very topic, the need of the citizens to make their voices heard, as he listened to a scene that was not the _same_ as it had been before the revolution, but neither was it _incomplete_. Combeferre was seated in a corner of the restaurant with a collection of workers, and Courfeyrac, talking animatedly about literacy and education reform, a cause he held very dear to himself and a pressing issue of the new Republic. Feuilly and a few of his friends (including Moreau, who Enjolras had become more acquainted with) were questioning Bossuet about some legal issue. Grantaire was carrying on loudly to anyone who would listen, and that included Joly and Matelote this time, laughing and singing some mocking off-key tune.

Enjolras had stalled in his writing, instead turning the medal he'd been given over and over in his hands, a concentrated frown on his face. He didn't notice Feuilly approaching him until he heard his voice.

"Corinth belongs to you as much as to any of us," he said, leaning over with a hand on the table in front of him. Enjolras looked up in surprise, pursing his lips in some confusion until he realised that, of course, Feuilly had overheard when he'd said the same words to Grantaire. "As does this Republic. They've judged your actions differently than you judged them yourself, that's true. I implore you accept that, Enjolras. You do have a place here -- you're making it right now." He gestured to the pamphlet in front of him, took the medal from his hands and gently pinned it to his waistcoat.

It felt much easier to accept when Feuilly was the one presenting it to him. Enjolras nodded gratefully, leaning back to allow Feuilly to more easily handle the medal, and grasped his hand afterwards in silent thanks. "My place is right here," he said firmly, and the smile that both of them shared afterwards was one of equal happiness and relief. He believed the words as he spoke them. Moments later, Feuilly moved away again to join Combeferre in his discussion, and Enjolras returned to his pamphlet. His fingers grazed over the medal again in a moment of reflection, but this time touching it brought a smile instead of a frown to his lips. He thought, instead of the past, on the future -- a future full of love, above all else -- and was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I was initially inspired by a different prompt for this exchange, one which would be about a thousand times less happy, but after doing extensive research for that, I realised that I didn't have time to complete it and flesh it out in the way that I really wanted to by that point - so we get happy fic instead. This is the first full fanfic I've ever finished, let alone for the Les Mis fandom!


End file.
